The Playing Fields of Hogwarts
by Les Dowich
Summary: After the final battle Harry is unconscious and his magic runs free.
1. Chapter 1

The Playing Fields of Hogwarts

**Author's Note:** This plot bunny came from the same litter as Harry Cat and Potter's Luck so you might think of them as variations on a theme. Still, I believe they are all different enough to stand on their own, so see what you think. The title sucks but what can I do?

Again, I have to thank my betas for pointing out where I lost the plot of became too cryptic to follow, and of course, my horrible grammar and punctuation gave them all fits and starts. (Gotta keep these ladies on their toes, you know! Don't hit me, please, I'll be good, sort of!)

As always, all comments and reviews gratefully accepted and if they are signed I will reply as usual.

oo0oo

_And it was on the playing fields of Hogwarts that the Dark Lord, Voldemort, He-Who-Will-Not-Be-Named, Tom Riddle, was finally defeated by Harry James Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, the Chosen One, in single combat before the gathered hosts of Light and Darkness. As their brother wands met and melded, both wizards were tossed back, Tom Riddle turning to dust and ashes. Harry Potter was borne away unconscious by his boon companions and lifelong friends, Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger to the infirmary at Hogwarts against the advice of the Medi-wizards present on the field at the time. There, Madam Pomfrey…_

oo0oo

The isolation room had walls of three feet thick granite and a door of the stoutest oak planks bonded together. Both door and walls were layered and impregnated with wards and holding spells, dampening charms and smothering hexes. No magic, no matter how wild and free, ever escaped the area, and did not now.

As Hermione opened the door and Ron laid Harry's limp body on the simple single bed, the first faint stirrings of uncontrolled accidental magic could be felt. Madam Pomfrey quickly snapped the monitoring spells into place and hustled the two young people out, gently closing the door and locking it. Hermione activated the viewing charm and blinked as Harry's body rose as if lifted by _Wingardium Leviosa_, rotating very slowly over the mattress in the wind of his freed magic.

Sparkles of light began to appear in the closed, shielded room -- solar systems, constellations, galaxies and nebulae -- circling the ceiling in a celestial dance that suddenly coalesced into a finger of light that stroked and poked at the walls, searching for something, but nothing the watchers could determine. When the light found the floating body, it cocooned it slightly for a few seconds, streamers and ribbons wrapping around and through the limp limbs and torso, caressing wild hair and plucking at glasses to dump them aside as uninteresting.

The bed was explored, bent and changed, the mattress melting and reconfiguring; a boat, a table, a horse, a car, and finally something resembling a cloud with sails. The bed frame fared no better, becoming a low, flowering tree that held the sail cloud off the floor; pretty modern sculpture for all to admire.

The light then turned its attention to the walls, poking and coating and changing the colour from plain granite to purple and azure and shades not seen outside a rainbow or a dream. The watchers were fascinated when the sparkles noticed them, Ron and Hermione flattening themselves back as the light slammed into the clear port and sent probing fingers to try and touch them. When it could not manage that, it created a more solid finger and doodled on the granite, turning parts of it fluid and others of it to sand.

"Oh! It's me!" Hermione exclaimed in surprise as a bas relief of her face slowly floated to the surface of the solid rock as though liquid and fluid and malleable.

"He got the hair right," Ron commented under his breath as strands of wild hair began to spin from the head of the figure, forming books and thoughts, plans and spells. It was beautiful and bizarre and terrifying all at the same time in the amount of sheer power being tossed into a child's amusement.

"There's you!" Hermione exclaimed as Ron's portrait appeared near hers, comprising chess pieces and broomsticks and Quidditch players zooming around him in its own small constellation of planetary thoughts. "That's truly beautiful!" she commented softly, then whipped around with wand drawn, Ron's also, protecting her side and flank as the commotion started with a group of strangers bursting in, bellowing as they came. Only the Healer green and Auror red of their robes stopped both young warriors from immediately unleashing the spells they had instigated to repel the intruders. Madam Pomfrey hurried forward to intercept and protest but she was swept aside.

"Harry Potter needs the best care available and a tin-pot school clinic is not where he will receive it, no matter how good your reputation is, Madam! I have an order from the Minister himself, authorising me to move the boy to a safe location and treat him there." The pompous tones made Ron's lips snarl and Hermione's mouth to purse up tight.

"Harry has lost control of his magic and it's running wild in there. There is no way to contain or control it now that it's free, not until Mr Potter is conscious and in fit state to rein it in again," Madam Pomfrey declared flatly, not moving from her protective place by the door.

Before any of the Hogwarts people could move, one of the intruding Aurors cast a blanket spell over the area. Hermione and Ron felt their limbs turn to lead as the unexpected attack took them down. Madam Pomfrey half turned and landed awkwardly, her head connecting with the edge of the table and knocking her unconscious. Unable to protest or even move leaden limbs, the two young people could only watch in anger and fear as the leading Medi-wizard signalled imperiously for the accompanying Aurors to bring up a stretcher already festooned in chains and straps.

As the previously charm-sealed door was opened, the magic within turned, bringing its interest to bear on the new phenomenon. Then waves of fear, anxiety and hostility hit it. The sparkling constellations reared back, coalescing into a ribbon, as the dense-packed moil of light and intent as the first of the four Aurors made it through the door and tossed a containment spell at it. It reared back in surprise as if stung and shook off the oddly formed substance as a second and a third wizard did the same things. Their actions stung and puzzled the magic; it had not experienced anything like it in all its time free… how long had it been free? What of the faint hint of past? Who had it been before? Had it been something else… before?

Agony coursed through the slowly revolving light show, making it jerk and straighten, its attention fixed on the red things that pointed sticks at it. The sticks were forcing its smaller cousins that were stuck inside the red beings to perform for them under the coercion of the stick and the sounds. Angered, the magic began to swirl, a tornado forming in the room to funnel the sheer displeasure of the magic. The mouth of the magical tornado slammed the door shut to keep its prey close to hand. It then turned to grasp its small cousins and pull them free of the red parasites trying to use them to such a cruel and unnatural ends.

Magic, wild and uncontrolled, blasted through the room, tearing at the three Medi-wizards attempting to cast _Stupefy_ on the floating body of the teenage boy suspended in the centre of the room. Martin Hopstead managed two syllables before the snapping, snarling beast tore out his tongue, the fountain of blood shocking his two companions into a split second of stillness as they tried to pry the door open. That was all it took before both men were slammed bodily into the solid stone walls, the taller with a sickening crunch of skull, the smaller with the dry-stick crack of long bones.

Two of the Aurors, Mardigan and Proudfoot, felt their magical cores being breached but could do nothing to help themselves, their own cores working against them as the wild magic ripped them open and engulfed them. Both men knew they were now Squibs, in the few seconds they had left to know anything. Then their intelligence and essences were ripped free. Unable to support life, their ravaged bodies fell limply to the floor and expired as the celestial magic turned its attention to the three green things that were equally enslaving its small magical cousins. Before it could free its trapped relative, other came in, also holding sticks but not pointing them at it. Noises were made, odd noises that made the magic pause and copy, the newcomers jerking their tops around to see it and make odd impressions.

oo0oo

"That has got to hurt," Ron Weasley said dryly as he stared through the small porthole in the door, where he had been banished by the three pompous men who thought they knew everything about his friend.

"Cold, but true," Hermione agreed with a disdainful sniff. "I suppose we are going to have to rescue them or Harry will be really upset when he regains consciousness."

Ron gave a put-upon sigh but before they could undo the locks on the insanely thick door, a silent figure strode forward and knelt by Madam Pomfrey, long fingers checking the pulse at her neck.

"See if you can contain Potter long enough to get those idiots out alive. You are his friends, his magic should recognise you," Professor Snape assured them as he worked over Madam Pomfrey's sluggishly bleeding scalp and fractured skull.

The magic inside the chamber swirled and a lazy ribbon curled away, eddying around the first one inside the room to explore it, finding a magical cousin trapped inside the newcomer too, but this cousin was contented and purred upon meeting and melded then freed itself, happy to remain with the red-topped one. A second curling stream of light encircled and engulfed the other, again meeting a cousin, this one was fierce and strong and more than happy with its lot, almost throwing the magic out and tapping on its nose for its intrusion. More noise came and the magic withdrew, whirling, sparking and dancing to music it had heard but not recognised as sound. The magic did indeed recognise them and did no more than swirl though them, leaving an impression of joyous freedom behind.

Ron felt the presence of Harry more clearly than he ever had before, the playfulness, the strength, and the sense of right and wrong that characterised his best friend. He saw the lights flow through him and heard the chiming runs of notes that almost sounded like words or a stream, or even a distant waterfall. It made him smile and straighten, wanting to hold onto the vision but not managing to gain more than an impression of wonder. There was peace and friendship between them and he turned to watch Hermione being greeted by the magic, the expression on her face more eloquent than any oratory speech could be.

"Harry," she murmured as the last sparkle flowed from her fingertips. The localised tornado of light and sound swelled and danced by the far wall, then raced over the ceiling, leaving a colourful psychedelic pattern carved and embedded in the rock as it flowed down the walls and into the floor until all three were encased in a world of colour, sound and motion. "It's only missing scent," she murmured and the lights once again orientated on her. "Smell, Harry," she murmured a request, one hand scrambling though her pockets to pull out the mini atomiser she always carried.

The tiniest spritz of Chanel No 5 was enough to set the storm off again, spinning and whirling, making the scent of oceans and flowers, wind and rain, school books and bakeries, potions classrooms and forests complete and all-encompassing until both Ron and Hermione had to hold their noses. It was overwhelming, too much of everything and Ron tried to push it away. Then the invisible hands started touching back, the wind had force, hot and cold, the floor had sound, and the lights had heat and fur and scales and texture and…

oo0oo

As soon as Hermione spritzed her perfume around, Harry's magic went insane, distracted and entertained while Ron and Professor Snape dragged the surviving Medi-wizards and Aurors out and shut the door on the cell again. Professor Snape cast diagnostic and healing charms over the injured men, one with a badly damaged skull, the other with two broken ribs and a broken arm, the third tongueless thanks to his own stupidity.

Patched up and stabilised, the surviving Medi-wizards were dismissed and their own Portkey used to send them back to St Mungo's before the two teenagers and their professor, survivors of the battle for Hogwarts, collapsed onto the nearest hospital beds with sighs of sheer exhaustion. Behind the thick door, the wild magic continued to conjure fantastic landscapes, colours and wild runs of scented sound.

"Well, that was a bit of a bust," Hermione snorted, tucking her hair back behind her ears. "Couldn't they have waited a couple of days before trying to move him?"

"I believe our Minister is terrified of Mr Potter and his power. After all, he did just cause the most powerful Dark Lord since Grindelwald to go '_pop_' rather spectacularly," Severus Snape remarked dryly as he flopped back onto the bed's fluffed-up pillows and dragged up his left sleeve. He gave a very uncharacteristic chuckle, almost a giggle, which made both younger people blink in surprise. "It's gone; completely and absolutely gone! Finally, after so many years, I am free at last!"

Hermione sat up and stared piercingly at the place where the Dark Mark should have been but was not. The fact that it had disappeared without trace gave her firm reassurance that Harry had indeed succeeded in finally defeating Voldemort. Even Snape seemed more cheerful as if a dark shadow had been lifted from his soul and he was finally allowed to smile like a normal human being.

"What are you going to do now, Professor?" Hermione asked kindly as the man continued to stare at his left forearm and grin inanely.

"Oh, I have been planning to de-age myself a few years and go have some fun. After all, I thoroughly deserve it! Spending the last twenty years serving two powerful masters is no way to live a life. Now I want to live, instead of merely survive."

"Are you allowed to do that, Sir? Is it even legal?" Ron questioned uncertainly.

"Of course not, but when did that ever stop me!" For once, the man who had kept more secrets than anyone else didn't seem to be able to control his tongue, and even more importantly, he didn't seem to care.

"Can you de-age yourself successfully?" Hermione asked curiously.

The laugh was slightly manic. "Of course I can! If I am perfectly capable of stoppering death, Miss Granger, what's to stop me knocking off a few years when I want to? I have been mucking about with potions for most of my life and I was given as much experimental time as I wanted as a Death Eater and as a member of the Order. Both sides were more than willing to allow my experiments if they thought it would benefit them. If one or two of those experiments were for my own purposes and not theirs... well, who is to know?"

"But you just told us," Ron pointed out in puzzled tones.

"Oh yes, bloody Babble Curse; makes you dribble at the mouth."

"And a touch of the Euphoria Curse too. Wonder what your cursers were trying to achieve? Seems a bit childish for a Death Eater attack," Hermione speculated after a quick diagnostic spell. No wonder their very formal professor was flopping about and acting like… a human being, maybe?

"I assume they, whichever side actually targeted me -- could have been either really -- were trying to make me lose control of my magic thereby becoming an easier target for whichever side got me first but they didn't realise that all it did was to make me talk faster and lose my inhibitions over using any magic I can command, Dark and Light spells and curses. Had too much practice overcoming such curses when the bloody Marauders were plaguing my life; never thought it would come in handy at a later date!"

"Well, it certainly has an interesting affect, Sir." Hermione grinned, as the usually sullen man laughed back. He didn't look nearly as old or as forbidding when his eyes sparkled with mirth rather than malice.

Before this very interesting conversation could get even further out of hand, Madam Pomfrey stirred and groaned, all three younger people turning to survey the downed Medi-witch. "Settle down, Poppy, your Golden Child is safe behind stout doors, the enemy is routed from the gates and you have merely cracked your pate," Severus told her with a shrug. "I fixed it but it will take a couple of days to settle down properly, medical magics not being my best charms nor incantations, I'm afraid. In the meantime, I will take care of Harry's needs while these two are going to be my assistants… aren't you?" He grinned wickedly at the two Gryffindors, who looked slightly horrified.

"Uh, if you wish us to, Sir," Hermione volunteered, elbowing Ron in the solar plexus.

Ron chuffed out a breath and nodded in pained silence as the Medi-witch blinked and slowly relaxed, accepting their assurances before falling asleep again. Severus used _Mobilicorpus_ to move her out of the enclosed area and back into the main staff area of the infirmary. The various Medi-witches and Medi-wizards who had been steadily arriving from St Mungo's to treat the injured were quick to accept her with very few questions asked. There were so many wounded bodies, what was one more?

Releasing his _Mobilicorpus_ charm, Snape stepped back through the door, without drawing any more attention to himself beyond the minimal. It was better that way as he was still a suspected Death Eater in some circles. There were quite a few Aurors amongst the injured and the attendants who had cluttered up Madam Pomfrey's usually quite staid domain. With a thoughtful flick of his wand, he put up a very discriminating ward that would keep out everyone except Potter's friends. Didn't want any more Ministry goons trying to pull a stunt like the last one, it would be disastrous.


	2. Chapter 2

The Playing Fields of Hogwarts

**Author's Note:** Again, I thank my betas for pointing out where I lost the plot of became too cryptic to follow, and of course, my horrible grammar and punctuation gave them all fits and starts. (Gotta keep these ladies on their toes, you know! Don't hit me, please, I'll be good, sort of!)

This is a short one, three parts only. And I really mean that this time… I think… I'm pretty sure. Problem being I have had a major case of writer's block on Renaissance and it's driving me insane. When I get writer's block I tend to write short stories rather than what I am supposed to be doing. I could also procrastinate for Australia… at Olympic level! Still…

Thanks a whole load for the reviews, love them as always. (Ego purring happily on the hearth as we speak.)

**For ****pazed**: 'the gathered hosts of Light and Darkness'. Think the Order and Aurors are for the Light, the Death Eaters and assorted Dark Creatures are for the Darkness. Think Florid Gothic novels and Bosom Ripper Historicals, (or should that be hysterical? See disclaimer, wasn't me, was their fault for not pulling up my runaway coach of thought trains…er, sorry, er…) On with the story!!! (_Looks sheepish and wanders off with sword dragging in dirt behind!_)

oo0oo

For the next few days, newspaper headlines trumpeted the defeat of Voldemort in letters four inches high. Articles and interviews with all the main participants were blazoned across the front pages, even though some of the interviewees had not actually been interviewed. Statements that Ron and Hermione were about to get married, were marrying other people, were going to live single lives, were gay, were both marrying Harry! Severus was a Death Eater, was exonerated, was really a spy, was the next Dark Lord, was Harry's father, was Harry's right hand man when he took over the wizarding world, whether as Dark Lord or a Light Lord was not clearly stated. Ginny, Neville and Luna didn't fare any better at the hands of the press and the public and were too injured to give statements or press charges as it was.

In the locked room at the Hogwarts Infirmary, the magic was getting restless. Ron was on guard when it began to tap on the door and the walls looking for a way out. It was bored and wanted something or someone to play with! Madam Pomfrey, more or less recovered from her ordeal, surveyed the room from the observation port and shook her head slowly.

"I have never seen so much magic go so wild in all my life," she muttered, making copious notes on her clipboard. "Usually we just give the magic something to entertain it and wear itself out so eventually it goes back to where it came from, inside the witch or wizard without too much fuss."

"You mean we have to tire Harry's magic out?" Ron grunted, shaking his head. "That… may not be possible. Harry has unplumbed depths of stamina and endurance despite his fragile appearance. He can function quite well on a minimum of sleep and food and still display huge amounts of energy, physical and magical, his early… training… saw to that."

"I know, but there you have it."

"Could we force it to function, make it do something, like… I don't know… study or practice spells or something?" Hermione asked hopefully.

Ron rolled his eyes but Madam Pomfrey looked thoughtful. "Perhaps we could teach him some hideously complicated piece of magic and wear him out that way."

'Yeah, why don't you teach him the animagus spell while you're at it, that should keep him occupied," Ron scoffed while Hermione nodded excitedly.

"Harry always wanted, more than anything else, to be an animagus like his father and Sirius. Good thinking, Ron!"

"In the mean time, we can give him some sparkly things to play with. Blocks and crystals and perhaps some wire and paint. It makes a terrible mess but it does keep the magic occupied," Madam said matter-of-factly as she pulled out a box from her storage cupboard and carefully opened the room's door to slide it inside.

The magic pounced and ran ribbons of colour and eddies of wind over the plain cube, exploring it. One tendril found the flap and popped it open with a flick. Wire, paint, glitter, glue, bits of material, beads and anything else a wizarding craft shop could carry suddenly exploded out of the magically enlarged interior of the box and danced wildly around the eddies and currents in the room. Shaking her head, Madam Pomfrey strode off to oversee her other patients leaving Ron and Hermione to watch through the observation ports.

The magic decorated the body it usually occupied, happy to play with the new things. It coated the walls, ceiling and floors carefully with delicate swirls of colour and shapes, then began a three dimensional sculpture in the centre of the room. After a while, it added a fourth dimension and had bits appearing and disappearing to the rhythm of the universe. Still, it was bored and it wanted something else… not sure what, just something. Coiling around the body, it began to reshape it but then the black one came billowing in, waving its stick, its body making funny noises as it tried to drive it away from the body. Not understanding, it was hurt until the Dark Grumpy began layering the body in bits of itself that worked in a strange way. That was interesting!

It hovered close and observed even more closely.

oo0oo

Severus had his nose deeply buried in _Potions Digest_, determined not to waste his time while he was rostered on watch over the Potter Brat. Why the boy couldn't just be normal and reclaim his bloody magic, he didn't know but it was becoming yet another round of tedious attention seeking, or so his old ruts of thought patterns insisted as they tried to reassert themselves. His more mature reasoning grabbed the old, emotional responses and throttled them to death as he glanced up through the observation window and let out a strangled squawk. The magic was trying to destroy the boy!

Without a pause for rational thinking, Severus flung open the door and sent a stinging hex at the outer edge of the swirling magical field. The ribbons jerked back hurriedly until only a thin thread remained connected to the boy who was in a horrible mess; bones were twisted and deformed, internal organs enlarged or miniaturised or even shrunk to the point of missing. Working like a demon, the Potions Master cast life support and sustenance spells over the young man, trying to preserve his life and undo the damage he had done to himself. It was often the way that these cases of dissociative magic ended, with the force turning on the body and tearing it apart.

"Damn you, Harry, why did you have to end up like this!" Severus demanded unreasonably as all his frantic efforts were proving to be not enough and he was failing to preserve the boy's life. Half turning, he stared up at the magic that hovered all around them in a bubble and snarled viciously. "Look what you've done, you idiot! You've killed him!"

The magic flinched as the black one snapped and snarled at him, trying to escape its own body and attack him… no, it thought he had attacked the body and was angry because he had changed it. Oh! A tentative streamer of blue prodded forward a thin thread and replaced the wobbly bit it had turned into a pretty red ruby and the black magic seemed to be happier with that, but not really happy yet. Maybe?

Severus stepped back a fraction as small streams of magic carefully restored the boy to his original condition, pausing after each correction to see if the Black Grumpy was satisfied. When it changed a leg bone into an arm bone, Severus growled angrily and it hurriedly replaced the limb with the correct one, then twinkled, just a little bit.

"Humph! No good looking at me like that! Your tricks will not work. Just put it back exactly as it was before! Then you can clean this mess up! If you are bored I have plenty of work you can be getting on with, I do assure you!"

The magic turned into an ecstatic swirling tornado of colour and sound, smell and flavour as it wiped the room clean, repacked everything into the box it came out of and wobbled with quivering alertness in front of the Potions Master like an eager hound ready for the hunt.

"I see! Very well," Severus murmured, crossing his arms as he paced thoughtfully, ignoring the whirl of magic that seemed to follow his every movement with intense concentration. Bloody hell, what did you give that much raw magic to do to amuse itself, apart from trying to blow up the whole school, which was not really an option at this point? One hand played nervously with a vial that was in an upper pocket and he smiled, pulling it out to survey the contents -- butterfly wing dust. "Well, Mr Potter, let's see how accurate you are. Can you duplicate this substance?" He sprinkled a little into his palm and held it out, a magenta streamer flowing though his hand and making him shiver as it stroked his own magic in passing. Swallowing hard, Severus held still as the boy's magic picked up the dust and engulfed it completely.

For a few moments nothing happened then suddenly, half a stone of butterfly wing dust crashed into his palm and almost made him overbalance. Staring at the slithering, glittering pile on the floor with his mouth open, Severus Snape was at a loss for words. The magic shivered, then carefully picked up the dust it had created, selected a brick from the box and transfigured it into a crystal vial big enough to hold all the dust before dumping the contents into the vial and capping it.

Snapping his mouth shut and hoping no one had noticed him gaping like a stranded fish, Severus nodded gravely. "Well done, Mr Potter," he praised calmly and the magic went mad, swooping and dancing, painting the walls and ceiling with gleeful colour and shapes. It even changed his robes to something Headmaster Dumbledore would have worn with pride before his disapproval registered and it hastily changed them back to black. "Settle down you insane maniac!" Severus admonished, without malice, a small smile touching thin lips. "Ready for the next challenge?"

The magic was in front of him with quivering eagerness once again.

oo0oo

"Severus, what are you doing?"

The indignant squawk made him jump but he controlled himself before it barely registered as he hauled crate upon crate of huge vials out of Mr Potter's room and stacked them up against the walls. "I am emptying my efforts to exhaust the magic from the room before there is no more floor space to stand on. Didn't work, by the way. He's still as er, chirrupy as a cricket. Bloody Gryffindor!" Severus added _sotto voce_ and groaned as a scream of defiance came from behind them.

Severus spun on his heels and shot _Stupefy_ over his shoulder as a full sized griffin snapped its beak at him in temper. "Potter! That was an adjective, not a noun!"

The ribbons of magic vibrated in various shades of green and lemon sparkles before the stunned griffin disappeared. "And don't laugh at me," Severus added grumpily as he left the room. The magic had all the sense of humour of the Weasley twins crossed with a three-year-old; a very powerful three-year-old, it seemed. "I am exhausted. I have run out of potions examples and I need a nap. He is still full of… whatever Gryffindors use for energy, probably sugar, but not tired out and not yet willing to return to his body. I swear, Poppy, he's a bloody nuisance. Oh, and you need a new toy box, we used it all up."

With that, Severus _Banished_ all the crates of potions ingredients he and Potter had created down to his dungeon laboratory and left the hospital wing in a swirl of robes.

The confined magic revolved slowly, shades of deep purple and navy blue invading it. It wanted to play some more, wanted to play with the Dark Grumpy who didn't smile but did a little shuffle of glee when things went right and shrugged or made a sarcastic twitch when things went wrong. He liked the way the magic resonated in the Dark Grumpy too, how it curled in on itself and made richly coloured whorls at its centre instead of broadcasting its pleasure or anger all around it like the Red Noisy did or the Fuzzy Brown's loops within loops patterns.

The Pink White Gold one came in and made bits of itself shoot through him and the body, boring and tale-telling, no fun at all. It bounced one or two of the gold sparks away and batted them around the room, but they were weak and easily exploded into nothing, not like Dark Grumpy's bits of magic that had substance and could be played with for at least twenty… whatevers. Marking the passage of time was not something the magic did as it was all time and place in the present constantly, which made the passage of time irrelevant, pretty much, sort of, maybe…ish. The Pink White Gold one made protesting noises and the magic sighed; showers of rain and dull, dull smoggy days of grey gloom coloured the walls and the atmosphere, physical rain soaking Madam Pomfrey before she could put up a storm protection spell.

"Is he sulking? Why is he sulking?" Hermione asked, as the soggy Medi-witch tried to dry herself out.

"Severus was forcing him to make things and now he is having a sulk because Severus left."

"Really?" Hermione smiled to herself. "I wonder what games Severus was playing with him?"

"Transfiguration, I think."

"Really? Perhaps he will play with me. Do we have anything to transfigure?"

The magic perked up when the Fuzzy Brown showed up. She had something to play with, little red things that bounced and sprang all over the room, ricocheting off the walls and floor, caroming off the ceiling. They had substance and didn't explode into sparks when it hit them; instead, bounced more wildly. The magic went wild as more and more of the little balls were released until the Fuzzy Brown, surrounded by a shield of her own magic, was laughing so hard she had to sit down on the bed.

Too close! Too Close!

The magic coalesced around the body, hiding it from view as the superballs were ignored. Dark Grumpy had told him to protect the body from everyone and everything and let no one touch it on pain of being ignored by him! Hermione found herself unceremoniously dumped on the floor on her backside, her shield holding but her dignity irretrievably cracked. The magic turned a deep emerald green, the colour of Harry's eyes as she managed to haul herself up and glare at it, hands on hips. "Oh honestly, Harry, I wasn't going to hurt you! Over-reaction, much!"

Sheepish threads of pink and red began to surface in the green as the magic slowly expanded into a loosely packed haze but didn't leave the body until she moved back a little. Shaking her head and making her hair fly loose, Hermione took a seat on the chair she conjured and pulled out a book from her pocket. Harry's magic conjured another chair and seemed to settle into it while she opened the book and ignored it as she read. The magic conjured a book and seemed to read it too, but streamers drifted over the floor and curled around Hermione's chair, rocking it just a little. When that failed to provoke a reaction, the streamers invaded the magical creation and changed a few inner molecules, causing the magically created chair to collapse from the inside until Hermione was stuck bum down in a hole in the middle of her chair, her knees pressed against her chest as she glared at the wildly swirling, carnival scented, coloured magical pillar across from her.

"Harry James Potter!" The tone was a solemn threat and the magic still snickered as it freed her from her predicament. Huffing indignantly, Hermione picked up her book and flounced out, slamming the door behind her. The magic wilted and floated aimlessly, colour and scent draining away until it was invisible to the naked eye.

oo0oo

De-aging was a tricky proposition. Oh, it was easy enough to de-age someone, make them much younger but the usual de-aging potions and spells simply sent the whole person back along their own timeline so that they were exactly as they were at whatever age they ended up, knobs, warts, mental and physical development and all. Severus did not want to go back to what he was, no way, no how. He had no wish to be the same angst ridden teen-ager or the scruffy, under-educated mines brat he had once been. What he wanted to be was a younger and less physically and emotionally damaged version of himself, with all his mental faculties and acuity intact; not such an easy proposition.

It had taken a lot of time and effort while ignoring the anonymous pounding on his door but he had finally managed to de-age himself to about twenty-one with all of his knowledge of his forty years still in his head. He decided a biological age of twenty-one was the ideal; finished his potions mastery, physically fit and healthy having cast off the early years of deprivation yet not picked up the later years of spell damage, courtesy of the Insane One. The Skull and Snake on his arm was still there but without the scarring and disfigurement his efforts to remove it in later years had gifted him with. At the moment, it looked just like a Muggle Gothic tattoo, with no trace of magic left in it, Dark or Light, and could probably be bleached out if it was done carefully enough.

There were potions for removing tattoos done in magical inks which were very successful and usually in demand by middle-aged wizards who had been 'rebels' back in the day. He snorted wryly. Usually teenage rebellion did not include tossing your life and freedom away at the feet of a madman. Even Muggle rebels tended to wear leather, poke holes in their body parts and sulk a lot. The magic that made the _Morsemorde_ so ominous was no longer in the world to plague him. In fact, if he remembered correctly, the Muggles had been experimenting with some sort of laber or lager tattoo removal system that might be worth looking into.

In point of fact, he decided that he looked and felt great as he swirled in front of the mirror and promptly tripped on the hem of his now too long robe. He had forgotten he had grown another inch or so after he started back at Hogwarts, and grown broader in the chest too, damn it, as the folds of spare shirt material testified! Digging in the back of his wardrobe he unearthed a pair of jeans that has seen better days, a very long time ago. Holding them against himself he grinned, yep, he was now definitely twenty-one and his most favourite jeans that he had carefully preserved all these years would fit again.

He was still casting tailoring charms on the rest of his clothes when the pounding started on his door again. Muttering imprecations on whoever's head it was, he flung open the door without bothering to finish dressing and grunted as Hermione Granger managed to pound on his chest before she drew back in horror. So it had been her trying to disturb him, had it? Bloody Gryffindork!

"What the hell do you want, Granger?' he snapped, rubbing the spot on his breastbone that was sure to bruise. She had very bony knuckles!

"Professor… Snape?" Hermione gaped for a second at the casually clad man with the faint Yorkshire accent before pulling herself together with a blink. "Oh, you did it, didn't you? Wow, looks great and those jeans are… tight!" She snapped her attention back into appropriate channels by a force of will. "Uh, we have a problem! Harry has gone into a depressive cycle and none of us can get him out of it."

"And this concerns me, how?" Severus asked, turning away to pick up his waistcoat and jacket, ignoring the fact that he had not barred the nosy Gryffindor from his rooms as he usually did. He hadn't been totally paranoid about his privacy at twenty-one and it showed. Discarding the waistcoat with a curl of disdain, he flung the jacket over his shoulders without buttoning it up and turned to pick up his cloak, not because it hid him but because it had enough hiding places to do a pickpocket proud. He liked it!

"Oh, come off it, Severus, you know Harry always reacts to you, one way or the other. You two have been dancing around each other for years and now you both have a chance to find out what all those sparks _really _mean."

Snape glared at her, eyes narrowed but she merely smiled an infuriatingly smug smile that made him huff and flip her the bird. Her jaw dropped and it was his turn to smile smugly as he swirled his cloak over his shoulders dramatically and strode out. "Coming?" he called in a sing-song dulcet tone as he took off down the corridor.

Shaking her head, Hermione hurried after him, a small, secretive smile breaking out as she ran to try and catch up with his long-legged stalk. This was going to be very interesting, very interesting indeed!

oo0oo

Potter's magic was no longer colourful or excited; it was grey, bruise coloured and grim. It moved sluggishly but with the impression of the deep, implacability of the ocean before a storm hit. Two Aurors stood at attention outside the closed ward while a green-robed Healer hovered as far from the observation port as he could yet still see in. He had heard what happened the last time a Healer had tried to help the hero of the magical world, and seen the three injured men brought into St Mungo's by Portkey. No way he would risk ending up like that!

Poppy and Minerva hovered to one side like Valkyries, ready to strike if the Healer made one false move. Hermione ignored the Aurors, shot the Healer a contemptuous glare and nodded to the two staff members as she followed Snape sweeping into the isolation room.

Minerva did a double take as did Poppy. Then both women sniggered as Snape tapped on the glass making the magic inside swirl sluggishly. Sneering at the display, he turned on his heel and cocked his head at Poppy. "Sulking, is he?"

Before she could answer, the Healer puffed up importantly. "The magic is returning to its natural state and will soon dissipate. It always does."

Snape turned slowly, black eyes flat and piercing as he swept the young man with an all encompassing glare. "I did not think much of your brain power when you were in Hufflepuff, Mr Dimovski, and I think even less of it now. Kindly… bugger off!"

Raymond Dimovski's eyes went wide when he suddenly realised the casually dressed young person before him was actually Professor Snape. The Healer nearly swallowed his tongue but had already been dismissed from Snape's consideration as the unnaturally young Professor returned his attention to the two friends.

"Have you shown him the animagus transformation yet, Minnie?"

"You may be twenty years younger, Mr Snape but you will be respectful…"

"…To my elders, yes, yes, I know, but you do fire up so nicely," Severus said with evil innocence dripping from every word.

Poppy smothered a chuckle. "We tried, dear, but he just didn't seem interested. No matter how much we called to him, coaxed or cajoled, he just continued to ignore us."

"Humph, Gryffindors! As subtle as a pie in the face!" Shaking his head in despair, he opened the door and, ignoring the sullen magic, transfigured a chair from the paper he pulled from his pocket, engorged a book from another pocket and settled down to read. Every so often he made an appreciative murmur, waving his hand over the book. The picture on the page flared into three dimensional coloured life and hovered over the tome, a soft voice giving a verbal commentary on the animal displayed. Another flick of the fingers dismissed the article and Severus continued to turn pages slowly and appreciatively.

"What is he doing?" Dimovski asked, venturing nearer as his curiosity over rode his intimidation.

"He's just sitting there reading and… Look…" Hermione murmured softly.

A single tendril of magic had slowly oozed out of the mass and reached up to look at what Severus was doing, a faint wash of opalescence indicating stirring interest. As it reached over the edge of the page, Severus ignored it until it intruded on his reading. Then he tapped it smartly with one finger, making it rear back and curl away before it slowly and deliberately advanced again. Again, it caused the three dimensional representation to flicker as it got too close and again Snape tapped its nose. The third time it happened, Severus glanced up and glared at the tendril.

"Honestly, Potter, if you can't look without touching, I shall send you to detention. Are we clearly understood here?"

The tendril swayed for a moment, then flattened away making the watchers huff and sigh in disappointment, but then Hermione caught her breath and chuckled. "Oh you sneaky, sneaky Slytherin! Look!"

A film of magic, now green and blue and gold was slowly creeping its way up the back wall while another pseudopod had manifested to look over Snape's shoulder. A second pseudopod dripped down from the ceiling and a third approached from the left-hand side. All suddenly pounced, grabbing the edges of the book and holding it still as Severus went to move it away again. He grunted in protest and began a tug-o'-war for possession of the book before he laughed, shaking his head. "Your bloody curiosity, Harry; it will get you every time! Alright, alright, settle down and read if you must, but keep your fingers to yourself, understood?"

"He's done it, look! The colour is spreading and the magic is moving again." Poppy clapped her hands in sheer excitement. "Minerva, you have to go in there now. Severus said he needed you to show Mr Potter the animagus transformation to keep him interested."

Professor McGonagall nodded decisively and hurried over to the door, tapping before she entered. Severus looked up as the magic suddenly curled around him like a protective emerald cloak, an unexpected development. Reaching out a long, thin hand, Severus stroked the nearest set of sparkles, making it purr happily as the older woman approached. "You wanted me to show Mr Potter the animagus transformation, Severus?'

"Yes, I did. Pay attention, Potter, there _will_ be a pop quiz, I assure you," he announced facetiously. "And no interference, understood?" He nodded to his fellow professor who carefully began to shrink and change until she was a small, striped tabby cat with square markings around her eyes and a long, sinuous tail behind her. "Well, Potter, what do you think? Interested?"

The magic, that had been dull and grey was again alight with sparks, colours and scents. A few animal calls mixed with the sounds of rushing water and blowing wind as a small tornado in the middle of the room began manifesting pictures of the animals they had been looking at in the encyclopaedia, each morphing into something human after a few seconds. Pseudopods were extruded to hover over the tabby cat but, good to Severus' order, none touched the small body nor interfered with the cat-shaped magic it perceived inside the furred body that also had the flavour of a cramped and miniaturised human inside. Very odd!

Minerva changed back to human and clapped her hands. "That's right, Mr Potter, it's called the animagus transformation and you can do that too, if you are properly trained. Having read your magic before your… accident… I saw you have the potential and merely need the training to bring it to the forefront."

"No, he can't!" Snape scoffed loudly, flopping into his armchair and slinging one jean-clad leg over the arm, foot swinging nonchalantly.

Professor McGonagall rounded on him indignantly. "Of course he can, Severus, I'll teach him myself! He has enough power to accomplish the transition easily. Don't forget, his father was also an animagus and the tendency and talent does seem to run in families."

"Given and understood." Severus waved a negating hand as he gathered up his book and flipped through a few more pages. "But not Potter."

The magic began swirling indignantly, one tendril trying to see the new pages, another trying to tease the solution out of Minerva's magic, a third curled around Severus' bobbing foot, riding it like a small child.

"I know you didn't like James or Sirius, but can't you see Harry is not like his father…" the professor began indignantly but her argument was waved away dismissively.

"Got nothing to do with those two gits, or even that cringing coward Pettigrew… And you can stop that, too! He's dead, remember? You killed him yourself not a week and a half ago, quite handily too, if I say so myself," he remarked in aside to the gathering storm of magic that was Potter. "Nope, Potter will never be an animagus because he lacks one very necessary characteristic to accomplish it."

"What? Tell me now and do stop this infuriatingly smug performance, Severus Snape! Oh, I had forgotten what a blasted torment you could be, you… you…"

"Temper, Minnie!" He grinned, having provoked the outburst he was looking for. Even Potter's magic seemed to snigger in concert with Severus' amusement. "Potter will never be an animagus no matter how hard he tries because, as I said, he lacks one very important qualification. You can train him all you like…" He rose to his full height, shut the book and handed it to the professor. "But you won't succeed. When you figure out why, come and talk to me." He grinned evilly and swept out, shaking the tendril of magic off his hand as it tried to restrain him. As he passed Granger, he winked and smirked but did not stop. The stunned audience heard his laughter from outside the door.

oo0oo

The _Encyclopaedia of Animals: Muggle, Myth and Magical _was comprehensive and complete. Divided into four sections for easy perusal, it covered Animals of the Air, the Land, the Water and finally, Insects as a separate section. Minerva, ably aided and abetted by the other two thirds of the Golden Trio, had shown Harry's magic every single picture in the encyclopaedia, all 5,379 pages of it!

The magic definitely showed a preference for animals of the air, anything with wings actually, including birds, hippogriffs, thestrals and even mythological animals like winged monkeys and snakes. Brightly coloured parrot's wings featured in the partial changes the magic made but alas, Severus was right, Harry just could not change into anything completely. They had tried every technique anyone could think of, meditation, even practice by transfiguration to an unrelated article. In desperation, Ron had even tried to manipulate Harry's magic by an external spell to change Harry's body into a very nice Hyacinth Macaw. Before he had uttered more than three words of the spell, the magic retaliated and Ron had ended up glued to the ceiling with bright orange Velcro-like strips that turned into Venomous Tentacular tendrils when Hermione tried to release him.

It was galling and annoying but, after a long and heated conference with Professors McGonagall and Flitwick and Headmaster Dumbledore's portrait, they were finally going to have to call Severus up to see what his sneaky little Slytherin brain suggested as their reasonable approaches were not working.


	3. Chapter 3

The Playing Fields of Hogwarts

**Author's Note:** Again, I thank my betas for pointing out where I lost the plot of became too cryptic to follow, and of course, my horrible grammar and punctuation gave them all fits and starts. (Gotta keep these ladies on their toes, you know! Don't hit me, please, I'll be good, sort of!)

This is a short one, three parts only. And I really mean that this time… I think… I'm pretty sure. Problem being I have had a major case of writer's block on Renaissance and it's driving me insane. When I get writer's block I tend to write short stories rather than what I am supposed to be doing. I could also procrastinate for Australia… at Olympic level! Still…

Thanks a whole load for the reviews, love them as always. (Ego purring happily on the hearth as we speak.)

oo0oo

Professor Severus Snape presented himself to the Wizengamot for his hearing after some difficulty. At first, no one would believe he was Severus Snape, thinking he was a younger relation of the accused, and he was quite prepared to walk away before Shacklebolt arrived in the Ministry's Atrium and confirmed his identity. The assembled Wizengamot kept casting him disbelieving looks as he sat calmly on the bench and out-stared various members of the wizarding counsel who studied him very closely.

He tipped his head back and accepted the three drops of _Veritaserum_ without fuss, confirming he had been a Death Eater with no remorse or regret. However, when his solicitor brought out Professor Dumbledore's portrait, it confirmed that Severus had been a spy in his employ and instrumental in sending the information necessary to make the defeat of Voldemort at Potter's hands possible.

Shacklebolt himself, from his position on the Wizengamot bench and as Head of the Magical Law Enforcement division, gave testimony that Severus Snape had indeed been on their side and was a respected member of the legendary Order of the Phoenix. He confirmed that Severus had been spying for the Order for most of both wars and that without his assistance and indeed his preparations and potions, Voldemort would have won the war and devastated the Wizarding world.

At a loss, the prosecution demanded that Harry Potter himself be called to give evidence. Of course, that was not possible. The necessary medical experts testified to his incapacitation and Snape's part in treating the magical separation the Boy-Who-Lived-to-Prevail had suffered in the final moments of the last Epic Battle. The defence counsel's speech was sheer rhetoric with a heavy helping of emotional blackmail and pure sentimentality. Enough verbal sugar to rot every tooth in the house, Severus thought cynically but managed to keep his mouth shut and his sarcastic comment to himself.

The final vote of the Wizengamot was a complete pardon for any crimes Snape might have had to commit in the course of his spying duties and half a million galleons compensation for back wages, and emotional and physical damage incurred in the fighting of the two wars. Amazingly, there were also a number of notes and later on owls asking him to meetings with various Wizengamot members.

Elders were intrigued by the new, younger version of Severus Snape. As many were entering their twelfth decade, they were beginning to look death in the face and attempting to backpedal frantically. Most of the invitations were to discuss the potions and spells necessary to knock a few years off their ages.

Narrowing his eyes, Severus sat back, his hands crossed over his stomach as he 'contemplated the infinity' for a long time, his mind working furiously to plan what he should offer these eager and exceedingly powerful men and women without losing his advantage. At last he turned his attention back to the assembled audience and smiled slightly.

"I have only made the potion once and it was purely experimental. Lucky it did not kill me rather than de-age me. It was expensive to make, especially considering the number of botched batches, and a teacher's wage is not adequate to make enough batches for experimentation. Nor does a teacher have enough spare time to make a proper job of the research needed to succeed within the next ten to twenty years…"

"What do you suggest?" Elder Marchbanks asked blandly, her hands palsied and liver-spotted.

"I have enough money to purchase a small cottage but I will need to have some land to cultivate ingredients; also working capital to purchase those parts that I cannot grow: dragon livers, phoenix tears, unicorn blood and the like. I do not guarantee results like mine." He rose and carefully did a slow spin, showing off taut young flesh and slim muscle showcased in Muggle jeans and a black t-shirt before sitting back down again and crossing long legs elegantly. "However, losing twenty years should make those initial movements first thing in the morning a lot easier to cope with."

"And how much do you plan to charge for this Elixir of Youth?" Elder Bones demanded cantankerously.

"How much is it worth to you? After all, I don't have to experiment with it or make it. I could just as easily open an apothecary with what I now have and settle back to make a comfortable living in Diagon Alley with absolutely no problem whatsoever."

"We could have you arrested as a…"

"Death Eater? After you have just cleared me of all charges, admitted that I was a member of the Order of the Phoenix and have awarded me an Order of Merlin First Class with Cluster and Ribbon? Do you really think my friend Harry Potter would stand for such a blatant reversal of orders and a miscarriage of justice just because you wanted to blackmail me into making a potion for you? Do keep in mind that this interview is being recorded in its entirety and Pensieved in a private vault in Gringotts, just in case of… 'problems'."

"Why, you sneaky, underhanded…"

"The word you are looking for is Slytherin," Severus smirked as he rose. "Think about it, money and land to create an elixir of Youth, or renege on your word and die, one by one in the next few years without surcease of pains and experiencing the usual infirmities of advanced age." He dropped a contract on the table for them to peruse and stalked away, leaving them all to pounce on the parchment like vultures on the Serengeti.

He barely made it past the main entrance to the Atrium, where the renewed Fountain of Magical Brethren stood in all its cynical glory, when a Hogwarts owl bearing a message from Minerva McGonagall landed on his shoulder and bit him on the ear, making him yelp and slap out at it.

Grabbing the letter and chasing the annoying owl away, he read the missive and snorted in disgust. So they still hadn't discovered why Potter couldn't become an animagus or how to get him back into his still comatose body. Typical! If all else failed, call the bloody Slytherin to clean up the Gryffindor messes! Well, they would just have to wait! He had shopping to do, urgent shopping. He had only one pair of jeans and two t-shirts to his name and there was that new shop on Knockturn Alley that specialised in cow hide and Chamoise leather jackets, and other delightful treats for the discerning gentleman. He smiled and four ex-students turned tail and ran away.

oo0oo

When Severus arrived, both Hermione's and the young St Mungo's healer's eyes popped out. Gone was the prim and proper black-clad greasy bat. Instead came a well dressed, beautifully presented Goth, black clad yes, but in fashionable jeans and leather jacket with a red shirt underneath and frankly… sexy as hell, as Hermione later told Ginny.

"Good Merlin, Severus, I thought you got rid of the earring," Poppy exclaimed in surprise.

"I did, but I don't think anyone has designs on ripping it out this time around, do you? Lucius is safely dead and Draco is not getting within ten feet of me, even if he wasn't as straight as a ruler. Would be like bloody incest," he huffed indignantly, making Ron's ears glow like beacons at the implications. "So, have you figured it out yet?"

Minerva's lip tightened. "No. He should be able to change at will but he just can't seem to make the full transition. He gets half way there and then it just… falls apart."

Laughing, Severus let himself into the room and sauntered over to stare down at the body which was Harry Potter. His magic curled around Severus like a green and gold cloak but did not repulse him as it had everyone else who approached his body too closely. Reaching out carefully, Severus moved a strand of dark hair off the boy's forehead and studied the now faintly scarred forehead, a finger almost automatically checking the pulse at his jugular vein. Drawing his wand from a cunningly hidden holster in his new jacket, Snape took a few readings. He knocked a strand of magic aside when it investigated his backside too closely, trying to worm its way into his back pocket where his Muggle wallet was situated, then he sighed deeply, the magic echoing him.

"You're going to have to go back inside your body, Harry. The body is not going to last much longer." He sighed again and flopped down on the mattress, ignoring the agitated swirl from the magic as he leaned against the floating neo-corpse's side. The physical toll of being unconscious and magic vacant for so long was easy to see. As Potter had never had a fat day in his life, there were no reserves to keep him going for much longer. Any muscle he had built up had fallen away. "I honestly thought you would have worked it out for yourself already but obviously not, being a dunder-headed Gryffindor. You…" a hand stroked the green and gold magic surrounding them, making it purr and squirm like a kitten, "need to go back into your body or you will fade away and dissipate. Look, roaming around free like this is indeed liberating after the life you have led, but Harry, no magic can sustain itself forever in the freed state. No one's body can function independent of spirit and magic indefinitely without sustaining irreparable damage."

The magic suddenly swirled away, raising a riot of protesting colours as it ricocheted around the room, more energetic than it had been for a week. Severus watched it without expression until it came creeping back to curl up around Severus' shoulders and rub against his cheek, dripping shreds of grey like dry tears. Severus sighed deeply once more and stroked the insubstantial creature again.

"Much as I have enjoyed the show and gained a lot of entertainment from watching everyone flapping around like headless chickens trying to cater to your whims, now I have to ask you to get back together as fast as you can because, frankly, your body is dying and I really, really wouldn't want to lose you before we've even gotten a chance to know each other properly. Besides, don't you want to know what your Animagus form is? You can't have one without a body, which is what Minnie forgot in her zeal to train you. Raw magic can't sustain that level of concentration without a fleshly body to contain it. So, you've had your fun and a nice long break from the real world, now it's time to get yourself together and come live your real life. Deal?"

The magic swirled sullenly then slowly slid off the teacher's shoulders and began to contract into a tight green and gold ball over the body's chest. Severus laid a hand on the top of it and stroked gently, exerting the slightest downward pressure to encourage it.

Outside, the teachers and his friends held their breath as the magic slowly slid into the flesh and disappeared from view. Snape nodded encouragement then quickly pulled out half a dozen vials, pouring potions down the boy's throat as his body began to convulse. Madam Pomfrey burst in, her wand out and spells flying as she helped stabilise the magical rejoining; a rough one after so long. Hermione and Ron dashed in too, adding their strength to the Medi-witch's spells that sustained their friend until his breathing settled and he sank down onto the mattress for the first time in the month since the battle.

Severus stood up and allowed himself to be shuffled aside as the unruly crowd of assistants surrounded their star patient. Smiling wryly, he _Accioed_ his used vials and silently slipped away, leaving the Hero to his accolades and acolytes.

oo0oo

The house at Spinner's End was a complete dump, that was a given. He had a feeling that the only way to fix it was to blast it out of existence, then start again. Opening the slightly warped front door for the first time since he had been forced to co-habit with Pettigrew, he coughed as a cloud of dust wafted up to choke him. The gloom was barely relieved by the sliver of light the closed, rotting curtains allowed in. When he pulled them open, they disintegrated in his hands, leaving grime coated and cobweb-festooned glass to let in a fraction of the dull grey afternoon light. Turning, he surveyed the mouse chewed and rotting furniture over the rag rug and unpolished floorboards. It was dim and grim and not worth keeping, even the memories of growing up here were dark and painful, his father's temper and drinking, his mother's whining and bitterness. If not for the few books he wanted to keep, he would never have returned.

He had almost forgotten his humble origins until a letter from the local real estate agent had caught up to him yesterday. There was a renewed interest in these old rowhouses, yuppies wanted to renovate the historically significant areas, although what they were significant to had Severus flummoxed. His was the last one in the row still in terrible condition. If he was agreeable, the estate agent had a buyer ready to take it off his hands for a very reasonable sum. Unable to believe anyone was interested in such a dismal area, Severus had gone out to investigate and discovered the house façades in his street had been blasted free of their layer of coal dust and grime. Fresh paint graced the replaced front doors and the doorsteps were newly cleaned. In some cases, doors had been lacquered, with wrought iron boot scrapers replaced or refurbished to black iron perfection.

Only his own house, perched on the end of the row, was still somewhat dismal and in original condition. A quick stop at the local pub where his father spent most of his time and money had gleaned information on how much the houses were actually fetching once they had been renovated, a much larger sum than the real estate agent had offered. Nodding determinedly, Severus had come to a decision and hoped it was not a bad one, which was why he was right here in the last place he wanted to be.

Sighing and trying not to inhale too much dust, Severus shrank all the books down and put them into a carton. Next he shrank the few personal possessions and keepsakes he wanted, sending that carton after the first one to the house he had bought in Trenton Mole, a small village in the Cotswolds, using his savings and the compensation money the Ministry had granted him for his part in the defeat of Voldemort. There wasn't much in the decrepit house he wanted, once the books were gone; a small gold chain from his mother's jewellery box and the clock his Grandmother Snape had left to him, a beautiful piece she had inherited from her grandmother. The only reason his father had not sold it for whiskey was because he thought it was a piece of junk, thanks to a small glamour Severus' mother had cast on it. Sighing deeply, he sent those back to the small cottage he had waiting for him.

Finally, using spells he had learned for this very purpose, he gutted the place, _Banishing_ everything but the plasterboard on the walls; dust, furnishings, carpets and all were condemned to appear at the local rubbish tip. Once the place was completely empty and sterile, he pulled out the pictures he had copied from various home decorating books as a reference, deciding on a simple theme. A household charm caused the plasterboard to be painted a fresh pale green, '_hardwearing and permanent_', the incantation from 101 Household Decorating Spells promised. The floorboards were stained a deep mahogany in contrast and varnished to a glossy shine, looking better than they had since they were laid nearly one hundred years before. Of course, the wood, despite the lack of care and maintenance was very good quality hardwood and now unmarred by any signs of wear and tear. The paint on the window frames and doors was a fresh white as was the ceilings and handrail leading to the second floor.

The last touches were added by the appearance of a very Muggle water blasting crew which firm Severus had found in the phonebook and contacted for an appointment. A slight touch of the Imperius curse ensured the crew turned up the next day to do the work, despite the usual three month wait for an appointment. A Muggle carpenter came and fitted a refurbished front door while Severus very discretely repaired and prepared the window frames and cleaned out the back yard with magic.

Twenty-four hours later the place was completely renovated and ready of occupancy, a place card announcing its availability for rent. Since old houses in the small town had recently become quite fashionable, he had little doubt that it would indeed be leased out to some yuppie couple very quickly. Satisfied with his handiwork, Severus Apparated away, leaving the fate of the row house in the local realtors' hands.

He appeared in the front room of Merton Cottage, his new home, and dropped to the floor, his wand leaping into his hand when he realised there was someone in his living room. The small, thin person turned, all too familiar green eyes widening at the sight of the wand levelled at his middle.

"Ugh, er, sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you," Harry stammered, holding up both hands.

"Bloody Hell, Potter, you nearly gave me a heart attack, you idiot! I'm not as young as I look, you know!"

Harry sniggered as he held out a hand and pulled Severus to his feet, but didn't let go so that they were almost face to face. Or face to chest, Harry noted in resignation as Severus stiffened at Potter's proximity. "Sorry," he murmured as he stepped back and glanced up with a faint smile. Yep, Hermione had been right, this new look Snape is one hot number!

"What do you want?" Severus asked gruffly, putting his wand away, while attempting to control his breathing and his hormones. His new body was a lot more active than his old one had been and it had no inhibitions about noticing how sexy Harry Potter was, or how good he smelled.

"I-I guess I came to say thanks; thanks for bringing me back and putting me together again. I… remember a lot of it… well, some of it but I remember my Dark Grumpy teasing and tormenting me, making me… live, I guess, and not give up. So… so, I guess… thanks." Harry took a deep breath and began to turn away, unsure of what to say next. Approaching a man, especially _this_ man, when you had only just realised you were more interested in men than women was definitely a challenge.

"You want a drink?" Severus asked, not sure how to detain this version of his… comrade in arms, definitely no longer student or boy but rather a very attractive young man, and knowing he would like to. Smalltalk and flirting had never been his forte but he had to try and exert his small expertise, starting with a crooked smile.

Harry's face lit up and he nodded eagerly. "Yeah, that would be…nice."

Severus smiled more genuinely, leading the way to the kitchen. "Tea or butterbeer?"

"Butterbeer is good. This place is really neat, Sev, nice house, nice village. What are you planning to do with your life now that the worst is over? I heard you got a contract to experiment with de-aging potions for the Wizengamot. Is that really a good idea? Giving them an extended life so they can hang around even longer and interfere with the destiny of the wizarding world? That may not be such a great plan."

"Oh yes, great plan but who is to say the research will ever pay off?" Severus smirked, then chuckled. "I'll give them what they want, a few extra years of pain free life but not a whole lot more, certainly not enough to cause a problem for the Wizarding world. All I have to do is make it cumulative and self limiting, not exactly a difficult thing to accomplish if I add a compulsion charm to the mix and a curse if anyone tries to use an analysis spell on it. As long as I patent the formula, then any charms, curses or jinxes I choose to include will be perfectly legal while being safe from plagarists."

"Yeah? But that's not all you want to do for the next fifty years, is it?" Harry persisted following him into the kitchen.

Popping the tops off two cold butterbeers, Severus leaned against the counter and studied the young man before him as he sipped his drink. "Not teach, no way, no how!" They both laughed in agreement. "I think I am going to be a freelance potions brewer. There's enough land attached to the house to start a fairly comprehensive garden and I'm in the process of negotiating to have a cellar added to the place as a lab. I need it for the Wizengamot contract and they are more than happy to pay for it, so why not!"

"Oh, hey, if you want a hand with creating a cellar, I'm good for brute power. Seems having your magic floating free for the best part of a month gives you a lot of raw strength. If I don't use it, it gets restless and slips out of my control, which can be… messy." Harry hung his head as Severus laughed, not cruelly but in real amusement.

"Hurricane Harry strikes at random, then?"

"You have no idea! It scared the crap out of the Ministry representative who came to question me about my part in the defeat of Tom Riddle. He made me mad and I lost it; blew the side wall clean out of the Infirmary, then grabbed all the various bits and reassembled them before they could fall on the people below. I have to admit, I even impressed myself with that one.' Harry sipped his drink and watched as Severus burst out laughing, head thrown back, long throat exposed. He was definitely much better looking now than he had been as a forty-year-old.

"Still, I'm good for heavy lifting and construction," Harry continued, pleased to have amused the man he was here to impress. "I've been doing a lot of reconstruction work around Hogwarts and the places in Hogsmeade, fixing war damage and stuff. I even managed to completely rebuild the Three Broomsticks for Rosemerta in a couple of days. I'm pretty good at it, if I say so myself."

"I thought you had ambitions to be an Auror?" Severus prodded gently, not terribly surprised at the sick look that crossed his companion's face.

"No. I couldn't face any more blood and dark curses, had enough to last me a lifetime, I think. No, building is much more satisfying and flying on the weekends. Did you know I have sort of made friends with Draco? Yeah, helped him shore up one wing of Malfoy Manor. We sort of got to be friends after hurling dirt at each other and playing one-on-one Seeker Quidditch, besides doing the construction job. He's not a bad person, really."

"Oh my God, the world will end soon! Potter and Malfoy are speaking civilly! Whatever next?" Severus grabbed his chest and faked a faint.

"Drama Queen!" Harry snorted, nearly choking on his butterbeer when he realised what he had said.

"Kettle, meet Pot-ter," Severus retorted, enjoying the sight of the sparkling-eyed youth leaning against his counter, drinking his butterbeer, and laughing at his jokes and conversation. It was wonderful. This was flirting at its finest and he was amazed how easy it was with the right man. "So what was your final form when you did get the animagus transformation right, you never did say? Or did you even manage it after all?"

"Of course I did it, and you know it! I managed the Animagus transformation, just like you said I could."

"Oh yes? And what wonderful animal did you manage to turn into then? A mutt or a fluffy little kitten?" Severus teased, knowing it would stir a reaction in the young man before him.

Very deliberately, Potter put his bottle down, grinned at his ex-Potions Professor and sauntered over, hips swinging suggestively. Winding his arms around Severus' long neck, he smiled up, then… melted.

Snape dropped his beer bottle, both arms wrapping around the long, sinuous creature he now held against his chest, two large colourful wings curving around his shoulders. A muscular tail wrapped around his waist and Snape stared as a forked tongue flickered out to touch his lips in a reptilian kiss before the wings stroked downward and the creature hovered effortlessly in front of him, opalescent scales flashing in the morning sunlight. Snape's mouth was still hanging open as the reverse transformation left a laughing Harry Potter standing with his hands on his hips, a grin from ear to ear.

"Best of both worlds, Sev, snakes and flying and access to my magic even when in my alternate form."

"Only you could, Potter, only you could. A…"

"…Quetzalcoatl, legendary Snake God of the South Americas, neat, huh?"

Snape burst out laughing. "Impossible! But then, you always were."

**End**

There you have it, folks. Yes, only one little reptilian kiss and nothing more. Sorry Zarathustra, Muahahahahah! No shocking the socks off the population. Thank you all for your reviews and comments, always lovely to hear from you, even nicer to hear from return reviewers. I do answer reviews personally so I don't list names here, sorry, but to everyone, thanks again and enjoy.

Regards

Les


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